31 Halloween Drabbles
by Altsoba
Summary: Drabbles ranging from cute fluff, brotherly bonding, wee!chesters to some angsty, dark and depressing stuff. Last Drabble, The Birthday Massacre. Reviews are appreciated, even anonymous ones!
1. Spiders

So this is number...12 of the Roadtrip Supernatural Forum contest. It is 31 different Halloween-y themes to be done before Halloween. YAY. I know I should be working on my other stories, I have typed some on Werewolves, it's almost done I promise.

I know this isn't an actual haiku, but it's been a while since I have done one, and it was written in under 15 minutes, give it some credit.

I don't own them, I just choose to play

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Spiders 

"Ghosts, ghouls, evil all kinds

Dean never hesitates to stop.

When confronted by

A creature of eight long legs

Makes skin crawl, Sam's help needed.

I am not afraid,

Just don't want gunk on my shoe."

Sam read the small scrap of paper before smashing the fairly large arachnid on the wall. Sam knew his brother had an aversion to spiders, that Dean would prefer to take on a Wendigo bare handed with a blindfold than have a spider drop on his shoulder. But it was more surprising to learn that his brother could come up with a pretty convincing haiku if he felt that's what it would take to get his point across.


	2. JackoLanterns

A little bit longer than the last one, I don't like this one as much tho- it seems rushed, but I think maybe it could be expanded later...

Still don't own them, just hoping to finish these drabbles of them

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Jack-o-Lanterns

It was orange, and round. It seemed to glow from its perch amidst the scatterings of newspaper atop the kitchen table, like a small sun set out just for him. Young Dean's curious eyes glowed wide in his face, the pumpkin selection seemed an important process, one that the young boy took serious, and he wanted to know exactly what the importance was.

This would be the first Halloween that Dean was actively participating in and he was finding it harder to keep his excitement in check. He wanted his pumpkin to be perfect, searching through the rows until he came to the roundest, orangest, most pumpkiny pumpkin he could find. It was obvious to Mary and John that their son was proud of the selection he made.

A glint of silver flashed into the burning orange, making Dean flinch and gasp. It took a moment for him to realize what exactly had happened.

John smiled over the pumpkin to his eldest son, but the grin seemed predatory to the toddler's eyes. Mainly because of the knife John also clutched in his hand, the knife he had stabbed into the utterly defenseless skin of Dean's pumpkin.

For a few seconds, nothing happened, and then Dean's chin began to wiggle. The tears would soon follow. John, for the moment, was oblivious to his son's silent cries and continued cutting up the pumpkin.

Mary walked in the room just as John began cutting out the face of the jack-o-lantern. She could see Dean's wincing at every slice.

The young mother knelt down beside her eldest child, watching her husband. Softly brushing his blond hair she whispered in his ear. "You know Dean, this is what a pumpkin's job is."

Her son turned his tear stained face towards her, the look of sorrow being replaced with one of interest.

"Pumpkin's are carved up into jack-o-lanterns so that they can scare away bad things."

Dean sniffed once, rubbing his face on his sleeve. His eyes glanced back at the pumpkin once before deciding that he didn't like seeing the pumpkin guts strewn about the table and turning his attention back to his mom.

"That part's necessary, honey. A pumpkin by itself isn't scary enough to frighten away a ghost." Mary smiled gently towards Dean. "You see, when Daddy is done carving it he will put a candle inside, I promise that it doesn't hurt it."

This seemed to ease the young boy's fears, and a smile began to grow on his face again. "So you and Dad want the pumpkin, my pumpkin, to guard the house? Like a dog?"

Mary laughed as she stood, ruffling the small boy's hair. "Yes, that's exactly what we want it to do!"

Dean giggled himself, helping to place the jack-o-lantern on the front porch of their home. Mary followed them outside, musing to herself about the old legend of jack-o-lanterns protecting their homes from evil spirits. She rubbed a hand across her stomach, in another six months she'd bring another addition to their small family.

Her eyes caught John's as he lit the candle inside the hollow shell. If only a pumpkin was the only protection her family would need in the coming months.


	3. Samhain

Okay, so this one is much longer than the last one and not as fluffy in the same sense. Possibly might be continued later on as I am not sure I like this one all that much, I think it's too rushed. Meh.

I don't own them, but I want them... maybe I'll get them in my trick or treat back this month?

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Oh, and how bout an opening for this one:

Tonight as the barrier between the two realms grows thin,  
Spirits walk amongst us, once again.  
They be family, friends and foes,  
Pets and wildlife, fishes and crows.  
But be we still mindful of the Wee Folke at play,  
Elves, fey, brownies, and sidhe.

Some to trick, some to treat,  
Some to purposely misguide our feet.  
Stay we on the paths we know  
As planting sacred apples we go.

This Feast I shall leave on my doorstep all night.  
In my window one candle shall burn bright,  
To help my loved ones find their way  
As they travel this eve, and this night, until day.  
Bless my offering, both Lady and Lord  
Of breads and fruits, greens and gourd.  
- **Akasha, _Samhain Ritual_**

Wayfaring Stranger

"The tradition of wearing costumes for Halloween dates back to pre-Christian Europe. Samhain was one of the most important days of the year to these people as they thought that, more so than any other time during the year, all manner of spirits and fey were able to mingle with the living. The Celts would wear costumes on this night so that they may blend in with the spirits of the dead and communicate with them."

A rare trip to the library with Sam spawned within Dean an idea of sorts, one that might prove useful to them later on.

The end of October came upon the brothers fast, one morning the rising sun brought with it the cold wind and multi-colored dead leaves of fall. The clear white face of the moon spawned a thousand idiot grins of pumpkin orange. Sam was careful to light the candle in the window, to keep it from blowing out while Dean stood out on the darkened street.

It had taken an argument on Dean's part, but he finally managed to, not convince Sam, but steal the costume and run outside before Sam could stop him. Besides, the long black robe and half mask looked better on him anyway, that and this whole plan was his idea.

Imagining the striking figure he was making, Dean crossed into the shadows of the alley away from Sam's scrutinizing eyes.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dean began to get footsore in his wanderings after a few hours; he hadn't noticed the town being so hilly the day they drove in; not to mention that the wind cut through the cheap robe like a knife. Dean looked up into the sky, searching the moon's face for guidance, his frustration level rising almost as fast as the hopelessness he tried to squash within himself.

Dean began trumping along again; vaguely he wondered just how long he had been out there, looking for some sign of the spirits that were supposed to be abound this night. There were many that he thought, if the legend was true, he would see. Even if he hoped that he did not, he hoped that those he knew would be wherever it was they were supposed to find peace after they died.

He crested the top of a hill, glancing about himself. For the first time he noticed the fog rising from the valleys below. This was also the first time Dean noticed the valleys surrounding him. The town he wandered through slipped away so simply into the fog, he hadn't even noticed it leaving. There were no lights, except for one slight glow off in the distance.

Turning back in the direction he was headed, Dean almost stumbled head-first into a woman. She appeared to flow from the mist, her solid edges blurring into the white vapor, her hair fanning around her head. She stood with her back to Dean, but turned at his near trip.

Her face was familiar to Dean, the soft, forgiving brown eyes telling Dean who she was more so than any other facial definition. "Layla?" Dean gasped his surprise. "I…I didn't know…. when did you….." for once, words failed the loud mouthed elder Winchester. He knew he had found what he went out to find, Layla couldn't be alive in this town, it was too far from her home, and deep down in his heart he knew she was dead.

"Hello, Dean." Her voice was near whisper, something no longer used often enough to give it the smooth nuances of conversation. She put her hand out to him, before turning back in the direction she was facing; she seemed to fade a bit more as Dean watched.

"Wait, please, I need to find someone," Dean's hand on her arm solidified her slightly. She turned back to him with a look of consternation on her face, like one who has been distracted from meditation.

"Who?"

"My… mother." Dean's voice dropped into the same near whisper of Layla's. "I need to ask her… I need to ask her what she knew, about the demons…. I need to know... why…." Layla stopped him with a slight press of her fingers to his lips, silencing any thoughts he might have regarding his mother.

"She would not be here Dean," her misted eyes sought his out, capturing them and holding. "She moved on, she has found her peace already. You would not find her wandering on this night."

Layla turned from him then, once again preparing to go. "Wait, Layla, I have something else…" Like she had done throughout this strange meeting, she seemed to read Dean's mind.

"I have made peace with you as well, Dean, seeing you tonight has made me realize this." She seemed to solidify more then, becoming more substantial from the mist. "I was angry for a while, confused, I didn't understand why you had done what you did then. I would be lying to myself if I didn't admit that it hurt me, you were saved and I wasn't. Even after you and Sam had explained to me why, I knew it was the right thing, but it still hurt. But this, dying, death has allowed me to let go of any resentment I might have felt towards you, I know now, that what happened was the right thing."

She laid her hand on his face, much the same way Dean's mother used to when she soothed away his fears. "I needed this as much as you did, Dean." Layla went up on tiptoe, lightly brushing her lips against the side of his cheek before fading completely back into the fog.

Dean stood alone in the mists, the surrounded by the clammy fingers of it. Some primal instinct inside of him felt that dawn was soon on the way, meaning that he would need to leave this place soon. There was nothing that mentioned what would happen to a wandering soul after sunrise, and Dean didn't want to take the chance of getting trapped here.

Turning, he could see the flickering light of the candle, guiding him to his only loved one left.


	4. Vanir

This is for the theme Scarecrows.

This one is quick, I really need to start getting in the swing of writing short things, they all feel so rushed to me. Oh well.

I don't own... I wish I did... maybe one day...

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Vanir 

It watched, all year, waiting for that special time when the night would belong to the Vanir. The younglings they sent were getting worse every year, but still, it would hunt them. The Vanir couldn't really explain what was wrong with the younglings recently, though, their fear was as great, and it got a thrill from the chase as they fought harder every year. Still, something was off about them, it assumed, in its own way, that the reason they were different was do to the fact that those being sent to it were not believers, they were not as pure. So each year the sacrifices were sent, and each year it consumed them, each year the trees grew weaker, and there was nothing the Vanir could do to stop it.

That was until that boy came. The minute he stepped foot inside the orchard, nay, the town the Vanir could sense that something was different about this one. He was a believer, not necessarily a true believer as those in the town were, but he suspected something. That boy might be enough to bring the crops back to what they used to be, if only for a while.

When the boy climbed the ladder, the Vanir longed to take him right there, but the rules of his binding forbade it. The sun was still out, keeping careful eye on all enchantments; the Vanir would not be released from its post until nightfall. The Vanir could only ask Odin to try and keep the boy here until its time came. Nightfall.

The wait seemed to take forever, the Vanir had felt panic creep up several times as the boy drifted away towards the edge of town several times, but when night did come he was still in town. There were two others roaming the Vanir's orchard, and it knew that the town wanted those to be the sacrifice. The Vanir knew they would do in a pinch, but it wanted the other, the boy from earlier. When the boy showed up in the chase, the Vanir was elated, Odin had answered its prayers even in this godless land so far away from Asgaard.

Salt blasts from the boy's gun enticed the Vanir's hunger; it confirmed that the boy knew that he was dealing with something more than human.

The euphoria the Vanir felt at the chase made it impatient, it drove on farther than perhaps it should have, chasing the boy and the couple to the edge of the orchard and a little bit beyond. Rock salt punching holes through borrowed flesh, but the Vanir didn't mind, the holes could be fixed once the boy was consumed.

It didn't get him that night, but it knew the town would see that the boy was given. The Vanir could feel their anger towards the boy when morning found it back at its post. Patience, the Vanir consoled itself; Odin had answered one prayer, so it wouldn't be too much more to ask that the boy be given. It knew that the boy was trapped in the town, and the folk were catching their second youngling to complete the sacrifice. She was also a believer, a true one, someone from the town.

Later, slightly disappointed, the Vanir discovered the sacrifice tied to some trees not far from where its post was. This time, there would be no chase, but two believers were better than none. There was also a possible third circling the orchard. The rules were any out on this night were fair game. The crops would do wonderfully this year.

Much to the Vanir's enjoyment, a chase did ensue. It didn't get the younglings though; the other believers came out of their homes. Trying to make sure the Vanir got the sacrifice it wanted, but preternatural creatures can be caught up within a bloodlust easily. Instead of going for the proper sacrifice, the Vanir went for the first two it came into contact with. They were far older than a sacrifice should be, but there was nothing to be done about it now.

Sated for the year, the Vanir returned to its post and tree to help with the growing season for the next year.

When the boy returned that day, bringing with him the other sacrifice and other believer, there was nothing the Vanir could do except watch as they burned its home. Not that the Vanir was too disappointed, the burning set the Vanir free, letting it return to Asgaard from this godless ground where it was too hard to make things grow.

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This challenge is open for anyone, the themes can be found at http// z11. Roadtrip/ index.php? Just take out the spaces and have fun!


	5. Tombstone's

I don't really like this one, but then again I kinda do. Graveyards unnerve me, with all those bodies lying there, waiting for anything to come along and infest them... the people aren't really there anymore.

Anywho, I don't own, wish I did, but I don't...

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Tombstones 

A lot can be said on a tombstone, there is also a lot that cannot be said. Dean mused lightly at the differences between his mother and father's final resting places. Mary's was immaculately kept, tended everyday by a groundskeeper who protected it, watched over the body, made sure it would never be harmed. An awfully futile job, now that Dean thought about it, trying to protect something that was just going to rot away to nothing. He guessed that maybe the worms need a secure food source.

Not that Dean meant to be so cynical, especially towards his mother. But he couldn't help it. He knew she wasn't really there anymore, had witnessed her sacrificing herself to save Sammy actually. In the grand scheme of time, it wouldn't take long for her name on the rock to become meaningless, no one would be left who knew who Mary had really been.

The two dates and dash carved into the stone didn't encompass any of that. The loving phrase chiseled towards the bottom didn't tell anyone how she lovingly tucked him in at night, never too tight but not so loose that he never felt unloved. The dash that was supposed to show she lived never gave anyone the slightest idea of the joy that would cross her face whenever Dean brought her a weed from the yard. There was nothing that said how her love for her sons brought her back from whatever peace she had found so that she could protect them.

Her tombstone showed she was loved, that she lived, but nothing else. The thoughts brought tears to Dean's eyes; it only served to remind people of the life she didn't get to have.

If anything, Dean thought his dad got the better end of the deal. John might not have this lovely marker to show he lived, but his legacy would live on forever throughout demon lore.

Dean hated the way this graveyard made him feel, like he should have done something more to protect his family, not that he could have done much at the time. No more than he had done. But if he were given the opportunity to trade places with his mother, he would have.

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This challenge can be found at http:// z11.invisionfree .com/ Roadtrip/ index.php? just take out all the spaces and have fun! 


	6. Stealing the Moon

This is for the theme Full Moon

Still not mine, but I'm working on it

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Stealing the Moon 

"Why's it so big, Dean?" Sam's young voice held all the wonder of the world. The bright and full harvest moon reflected in his soft brown eyes, looking like the world's largest pumpkin.

"It's so big because it has to light the way for the world when the sun goes to sleep. That's a pretty big job to fill." Dean wrapped his arm around his younger brother's shoulders, the two boys huddling together tight in the window. John was glad that Dean was able to distract Sammy from trick-or-treating.

The bag that Sam had brought home from school lay forgotten on the floor, along with the costume Sammy had convinced his brother to make for him. Even though, Dean knew that John would never let them out on Halloween he made the costume to Sammy's specifications, using whatever materials he could find; Dean would do anything for Sammy.

When the tears came after John told Sam no, Dean was right there to distract the six year old. This was something that the small family went through every year; Sammy never understood why he wasn't allowed to go like the rest of his classmates and Dean would always calm him down by doing the same thing Mary would always do when one of the boys were upset.

"The moon tonight is special Sammy, you know why?"

"Why?"

"It came up earlier just to so it could keep an eye on you, it heard that you were sad and wanted to cheer you up."

"How, Dean? How?" Sam's excitement was apparent in his posture, John could see it from his post by the door, the single candle flame turning his two boys into shadows.

"Like this," Dean reached his fingers out to the window, closing them so they appeared to catch the moon; his green eyes glowed with his love for his brother and reflected moonlight. "It wanted to come visit you tonight, but now we've got to let it go back up and light the rest of the night."

Dean closed his fist and blew in it before opening his hand and sliding down out of the window. The moon, once more returned to its home in the sky, shown down brightly upon the boys faces. One staring at his brother's face, the other staring rapturously up at the moon so recently taken down for him; all thoughts of candy and fun forgotten for the night.

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This challenge can be found at http:// z11.invisionfree .com/ Roadtrip/ index.php? just take out all the spaces and have fun! 


	7. Mischief

This is for the theme mischief... I do apologize to all the Sam fans in advance. But it had to be written, I couldn't help it.

I don't own them, but I so wish I did.

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Mischief 

"God damn it, Dean!" Sam always hated when Halloween came around. Their dad never let them go out on that night so Dean always found ways to amuse himself. Unfortunately, twelve-year-old Sammy was always at the brunt of these "amusements".

It started with the whoopee cushion on Sam's bed, then it moved to the hand buzzer on the bathroom door, then it moved to the current tied spray nozzle on the sink. Sam stood there, feeling the water soak through his pants he slowly turned his head towards his snickering older brother.

"Man, I can't believe you just stood there and let it hit you! And don't swear at me, you're not old enough to say things like that. " Dean couldn't stop laughing; Sam didn't see what was so hilarious about setting someone up to be sprayed. "Besides, it's not like you haven't tried to get me back at all."

Sam glared at his older brother, it was true, there had been the fake spider flung towards Dean as he walked through the bathroom door. In fact, their little prank war drove John outside for the night. Their father figured he was safer at a bar then he was at the motel, giving up on trying to make the boys stop one upping each other. Sam was inclined to believe his father was right. Whenever Dean got into a mischievous mood, specifically one on Halloween when he had been cooped up all day, things were sure to escalate.

"You're so immature, Dean." Sam growled before stomping into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

"Whatever, dude." Dean climbed off his bed, heading for the fridge and a waiting can of coke. Sam listened behind the door, he knew Dean would expect them to be shaken, but he wouldn't expect them to be empty. All it took was small nail in the bottom of each can, draining all of them while Dean was no doubt wiring the bucket to the back of the bathroom door. The one that Sam just found. The one that was full of green jell-o.

A muffled, "What the hell?" from the kitchen gave Sam some small consolation from within his green mess. At least in the shower Sam was vaguely sure that Dean could do no harm to him, other than turning the hot water on in the kitchen.

Stripping down Sam sighed, starting the shower. If he could stay in here long enough then maybe, if there was a god, Dean would be out of his Halloween mood. Possibly absorbed in some stupid and plot less scary movie.

Sam scrubbed the green mess off his skin, letting the shampoo settle in his hair. This was a new brand, something that made his scalp tingle, it felt good. Closing his eyes, Sam relaxed into the water, forgetting what an ass his brother could be. It still would have been funny to see Dean's face when he figured out that there was no soda, all his precious sugar gone down the drain.

After what seemed like too short a time, the water began to turn cold; not Dean playing with the taps outside cold, but the water heater just not being that big cold. Sam shut the water off, noting the hair on the bottom of the tub.

He thought that was slightly strange, it was normal to see a few strands, but this was more than a few. Wiggling his toes a bit, Sam decided that it must have been hair from the drain. These motels were always pretty disgusting. He stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist. For the first time Sam realized that he didn't bring any clean clothes with him, not expecting to be attacked by a jell-o filled bucket.

"I hate you Dean. I hate you, I hate you." Sam whispered as he opened the door a crack. The TV was blaring in the corner, the candle glowing in the window, but no sign of Dean.

Sam crept out of the bathroom, hurrying to his bed. With nothing but a towel Sam knew he was at the most vulnerable. It made him shudder to think of what Dean would do.

Turning, Sam heard the winding of the camera, managing to get a face full of the flash before there was anything he could do.

"Hey cue-ball, this'll make a great Halloween card, don't'cha think?" A developing Kodak was placed in Sam's hand, a slowly appearing image of himself; himself with large patches of hair missing, large patches that encompassed most of Sam's head.

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This challenge can be found at http:// z11.invisionfree .com/ Roadtrip/ index.php? just take out all the spaces and have fun! 


	8. The Bone Song

Don't own them, wish I did.

This is for the Roadtrip theme Skeleton.

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Skeletons

This sucked; Dean sat amidst the large pile of bones not knowing when Sam would be coming along to save him. Whatever this thing was it kept a ton of souvenirs, either that or it wanted to make the world's largest pot of bone stew.

Sam was at the library, trying to figure out exactly what it was that they were hunting. That left Dean with the job of searching the town for possible lairs or suspects; this was the way things normally went. Normally their setup went without a flaw.

This time, though, Dean had stumbled upon the lair by accident, deciding to question the eldest member of the community. That was when things went terribly wrong.

Dean knew the guy was getting suspicious, he knew when to cut his losses and run. This time he didn't run fast enough.

Somehow, Dean had found himself trapped by the octogenarian. Of course, the old man wasn't really a person; he was some kind of monster. Dean didn't really get a good enough look at the creature to tell what it really was before it threw him. The thrashing was hard and short, but seemed long to Dean as he was mainly on the receiving end. Somehow, Dean's gun had been knocked out of his hand in the initial onslaught and he found himself unable to fend the creature off. Mercifully, the monster was strong enough to knock him unconscious fairly quickly.

When Dean came to, he was lying in the bottom of a large earthen pit. At first he tried to climb out, but that was when he discovered a broken leg, possibly a dislocated shoulder, and a few other contusions and abrasions.

With climbing out of the question, Dean was left with waiting. Waiting and hoping that Sam would come soon. Waiting and hoping and counting the mismatched bones of the monster's other victims.

It was hard for Dean to tell time, it was still light outside when Dean woke up, but it was a darker light. Colder too.

"Sam, I hope you hurry."

As day faded into night, and then night into another day Dean began to worry. What if Sam was caught by surprise, what if it didn't just maim Sam…

The possibilities flew through Dean's mind, things that he tried to control, but was failing miserably at. His struggles for escape were getting him nowhere. Digging his fingers into the hard soil, did nothing more than rub them raw to the point of bleeding, every twitch of his leg made the bones grind together. He knew worrying did him no good, that every time he tried to climb out he was losing what little strength he had.

Finally, Dean resorted to the only thing there that might distract himself from his worry. Pulling the bones he could reach closer to himself, he began to sing the old preschool song.

"The shin bone's connected to the, thigh bone." His voice cracked from lack of water. Having no way to keep the bones together, Dean laid them down next to himself, with the ends barely touching. Dean didn't know that the two bones were actually upside down. Most of the bones were broken; the tibia Dean just placed had a large crack running through the top, it was a lucky thing that Dean didn't land on any of them as most were quite jagged.

"The leg bones're connected to the, pelvis… looks kinda like a owl face or something, which is then connected to the… the…" Dean searched, his bloodied fingers looking for the bones that came next. He couldn't find any within reach.

"The pelvis has to connect to the arm bone, then and the arm bone's connected to the," Dean was finding it harder to stay conscious, he could barely feel his leg and the throbbing from his shoulder was a vague hum in the cotton binding him. Reaching, he clutched the first thing that came into his hand, a mangled and broken skull. "This arm bone's connected to a head bone, an tha's all the bones there are…"

Dean's eyes closed, he slowly faded from the waking world into that of sleep.

"Dean! DEAN!" Sam's voice cut through the blackness like a knife. He came, either that or Dean was having a very loud dream.

The dream wad also managing to shake him, "Dean please wake up man, come on."

"The Sam bone's gonna be connected to my foot bone in a minute if he doesn't quit shaking me." Dean's voice came out barely above a whisper, but it was enough for Sam to hear.

"Glad to know you're okay man, you had me worried. Let's get out of here."

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This challenge can be found at http:// z11.invisionfree .com/ Roadtrip/ index.php? just take out all the spaces and have fun! 


	9. You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead

This is for the theme Zombies

Warning, this is terribly angsty, terribly, terribly angsty. But the ending was perfect where it was and I couldn't bring myself to go on from there... maybe... depending on the response I might continue it... I have the rest of how it would go planned out... but it really does depend on the response.

I don't own them, mainly because things like this would happen if I did

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...And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead

"Come on Sammy, we've got to keep moving!" Dean pulled his younger brother through the mostly vacant alleys. They could hear the mob of people just one street over, it had been in crossing this that the boys and John lost each other.

When the world came crashing down around the small family's heads they were having dinner at a small pizza place not far from main street. It was Dean's tenth birthday. The night had been surprisingly warm, the motel not far, the family walked. Little Sammy was the first to notice something off, but Dean was too enthralled with the idea of turning ten and a normal family dinner to pay much attention, while John was more concerned with making sure his two boys got to the restaurant with as few incidents as possible. He didn't have time to worry about several homeless people.

The world didn't stop until about halfway through dinner.

It took only an hour for the small city to turn itself inside out. By day two the streets were owned by the near silent dead, there were no more screams.

Five days, the small family waited with three other families, barricaded within the restaurant. Five days of speaking in hushed tones about rescue that grew less likely as the hours ticked by. Five long days of flinching at every sound outside. The Winchesters would have made a run for it, but they only had one gun, the one John kept with him at all times. With the amount of dead on the streets they'd barely make it out the door. The owner of the of the restaurant kept his gun and ammo with him at all times, there was no way he was going to loan it out to anyone so they could leave.

Day five was the day the smell of fire came wafting on the wind, smoke and the smell of burning flesh. Day five the small family tried in vain to keep the other families calm, but when live people began rushing from their hiding places out into the streets and the awaiting jaws of the dead the little family either had to run with the others or be pinned down by the dead flooding inside.

Later, neither boy would remember the events leading up to and beyond their acquirement of the owner's gun. Dean couldn't remember if it was before or after they were separated from John, he just knew it had saved his life and Sammy's more than once.

"Where we goin', Dean?" Sam's voice was no more than a faint breeze by Dean's ear.

Reaching over, Dean gave Sammy a one armed hug, at least he wasn't panicking. Once they ran from the chaos that was Main Street, the boys had stopped to collect themselves in an alley. They found a place to hide behind a couple of dumpsters and fought back the blind panic that consumed them during their journey here. Already they could not really remember what happened, just the amount of carnage, running, dodging and never letting go of each other's hands.

They stumbled back here by chance, and now that they had collected themselves a bit, Dean noticed he was down three bullets and had placed Sammy in an area where they were easily going to be pinned. So long as Sam needed Dean to protect him, Dean could not afford to make any more mistakes like this.

"We're gonna try an' make it to the car, back to the motel an' wait for Dad." This response, after ghosting back to Sam worked to calm the five year old. Dean tried not to think about what they would do if John never showed up, or if the motel was overrun.

"Let's get goin', Dad's probably waiting for us." Dean figured he'd believe this, force himself if he had to.

Dean grabbed Sam's hand again and stood, peeking around the corner of the dumpster. As far as he could tell, besides a few piles of trash the alley was still empty, they could still hear the sounds of the mob on the other side of the building. Screams and shouts, occasional gunfire barely covered the deranged sounds of the moaning, slurping noises made by the undead.

They stepped out quietly, neither brother daring to breathe in very deeply for fear of attracting attention. Thankfully the smoke was headed in the opposite direction from the boys, which meant at least they didn't have to worry about the motel having burned down, yet.

It came at them from nowhere, reaching out from a large pile of rags and trash to grab Sammy by the ankle. The young boy screamed, Dean kicking and stomping on the dead person's hand with his sneaker. Sam's voice cut off, dropping from a shrill shriek to not even a whimper, his brown eyes going wide in his already pale face. Dean turned, the zombies mouth closed over the end of his shoe, he could feel the teeth close over his toes but it was a distant feeling. He could see what made Sammy freeze; the dead were coming down the alley, stumbling over each other to get to the boys.

"Shit!" Dean didn't even bother to correct Sam's language, stomping down as hard as he could, breaking the creature's jaw.

Not even bothering to try and shoot any of the wandering corpses Dean clutched Sammy's hand harder and took off down the alley dragging Sam behind him. The corpses stumbled along behind them, and now that Dean was headed that way, they were in front as well. Their collective smell sliding down the alley like rotten garbage making the boys gag as they ran. "Cover your face Sammy!" Dean turned towards the wall, firing at the back door of the building they were behind. He only wanted to damage the knob enough to get inside.

Bursting through the door, Dean pulled his near catatonic brother through the door, shoving it to behind him. "Please don't let there be any in here," Dean prayed to himself, he didn't have time to check before getting them in here.

"Sammy, stay close." Dean didn't need to worry about Sam, his brother stood still, glassy eyes staring into the space ahead of him as if he could still see the zombies coming for him. "Sammy? Sam!?" Dean could feel the first of the zombies reach their position through the door, the pounding of dead hands against the wood made his small frame shudder. Even with the few there were it was too much for the ten-year-old to hold. He could feel his shoes slide across the cement floor as the dead pushed against him. His heart beat widely in his chest; he couldn't get Sam to answer, to respond at all "Please Sammy, I need your help!"

His brother didn't respond.

Dean pushed his entire weight against the door, still he was sliding. "SAM!" Screaming Dean felt the first cold fingers touch the skin of his arm. "Please, Sam!"

* * *

Remeber, it depends on you, dear readers to determine what will happen to our dear wee!chesters 


	10. Goodnight Demon Slayer

This is for the theme Monster

I still don't own them... sighs...

I got the idea for this from a Voltaire song called, you guessed it, Goodnight Demon Slayer and had planned on writing something for it for a long time now. If you have the chance to listen to the song I recommend it.

* * *

Goodnight Demon Slayer

"Sammy, go to sleep!" Dean rolled over, cracking one eye open towards his brother.

"I can't, Dean," the youngest Winchester would say no more, just resumed shining his flashlight around the small motel room.

Dean sighed in frustration, trying to roll over where Sam's light couldn't reach his face, but he couldn't find a reprieve from the probing light. Finally giving up, Dean sat up, determined to talk his brother into sleeping, their dad would be pissed if he came in and they were still awake.

"Why can't you sleep?" Wrapping his arms around his legs, Dean placed his chin on his knees, the perfect posture to show his baby brother he was perfectly patient to wait all night if it came down to that.

"The monsters," Sam's wide brown eyes were serious in his small face.

Dean suddenly understood, Sam just started school this year, part of the reason they were in a rented house instead of a motel, the other kids at school must have been telling him about the monster under the bed. Dean went through the same thing at Sam's age, but by then he knew when a monster was real and when they were not.

Debating on whether or not to give him the "monsters aren't real" speech that other kids got at this age Dean decided to go with a gentle truth. "You know, Sammy, just because monsters might be real doesn't mean that they can hurt you."

"Really?" Innocent wonder filled Sam's voice, John tried to keep his youngest out of the mess of their lives, so far he had done a pretty good job.

"Yeah, you just have to show them who's boss." Dean got a brilliant idea, "Yeah, you just have to let them know that there's no one out there scary than you man, that they don't wanna mess with you."

"How?" Sammy's voice grew in volume as his excitement grew. Dean winced, glancing at the door, hoping their dad didn't hear.

"Well first, you've got to lower your voice." Sam nodded his head, placing his hands over his mouth. "'K so, to start with, if the monster eats you, you just need to cut yourself out of him, preferably with a chainsaw, or an axe, anything that will make the biggest mess possible of the thing. Or, uh, or if you see some, uh," Dean wracked his brains, trying to think of some monsters that Sam would know. "Those harpy things, you know, the bird ladies, or anything really that looks like a bird, tell 'em that you'll fricassee them. Fry them for a chicken dinner, ya know."

Dean told Sam about all the ways he could imagine to kill a monster, to show them that he wasn't afraid, finally easing his brother's fears enough so that the six-year-old could finally sleep.

It would be another few years yet, before Sam would really get to go on a hunt, Dean had just done his first a few weeks ago.

"Goodnight, little demon slayer."


	11. Sweet Teeth

Still don't own them, wish I did...

* * *

Sweet Teeth

He waited, patiently, they would come to him, they always did. It was feeding time, the once yearly gorge that would not be held against him for the rest of the year.

There was only one rule, he couldn't leave, he must wait for the sacrifices to come to him. It was never long, though, they always came. They came in such copious amounts that he could even pick and choose which ones he wanted to take. They were never old enough, but if they were too young he would reject them. Send them on there way, in fact, he would give them treats to get them to possibly come back when they were old enough.

Here came a group now, a group that appeared to be full of his type, they always came later in the night. Laughing and goofing off, not even bothering to wear the dress of the night.

They came up to the door, all of them giggling, looking for pumpkins to smash or the odd house to TP.

He waited, they were almost close enough, his little pumpkin was just bait enough to get them close enough.

They reached, he pounced. Screaming in Latin, what appeared to be a pile of leaves exploded into the night, releasing the fury held within.

Dean smiled as he collected the bags dropped in the teens attempts to escape, their nights stolen candy once again passing into the hands of a new owner. He managed a great haul this year, and he never had to leave his house.

* * *

Tee hee, YAY I finally got a really short one! 


	12. Rocky Horror WinchesterShow

This is for the theme Scary Movies

I don't own them... I want them... but I don't own them...

* * *

Rocky Horror Winchester-show

"Man, this whole trip's been a bust," Dean grumbled as he and Sam trudged through the wet mud and leaves to the Impala. The poltergeist they were hunting turned out to be some kids playing a prank. After a long explanation of what rock salt could feel like coming out of a shotgun, the brothers sent the kids home, deciding for caution as the better part of valor they chose to stay; searching the house for spirits anyways before they left.

Sam was ashamed to admit, that, yes; this whole hunt had been a bust from the start. They had arrived in the small town early this morning and began their work trying to track down the haunting as soon as they stepped out of the car. A haunting that sounded eerily similar to one in Texas they dealt with a while back.

This case had bothered both brothers from the moment they heard of it, but instead of magical symbols that made the haunting real the brothers just dealt with some snotty kids. Even with the mysterious lack of anything supernatural in the area, Dean had felt that something was about to happen, Sam didn't really feel much of anything except a slight fever.

As they crossed the small yard Dean warily listened for any out of place sounds. The world was still, silent, waiting. There was no sign of the teenagers' car.

"Let's just find a place to sleep for the night." Sam pulled his door open, sliding into the passenger seat as Dean slid into the driver's, with practiced synchronicity the brothers slammed their respective doors closed at the same time. Dean turned the key in the ignition, bringing the car to life with a familiar roar.

"Hey, Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Does something feel off to you? I dunno, I feel weird, like something is… I just…" Dean's frustration was apparent on his face, "I don't know Sam, something's just off about all this."

The brothers had learned at a young age to trust their feelings, as more often then not they held true.

"Well, what do you think we should do?" Sam queried to his brother's profile.

"Leave." Dean's fingers tightened on the steering wheel, his eyes narrowing to slits. It wasn't often he chose to run instead of fight, but there was just something so wrong about this feeling he had. He wanted to play it safe, until he knew exactly what caused the feeling; Dean thought it would be better to leave it alone.

-- --- --- --- --- --- -- --

"Damn." Dean whispered to himself, glancing over at Sam's sleeping form. It wasn't long into their drive that Sam had fallen to sleep, leaning on the door. Dean thought it a little weird, Sam falling to sleep like that, he wondered vaguely if his brother weren't coming down with a cold.

It also wasn't long after Sam fell asleep that the Impala began to sputter and stall before finally dying completely. Dean managed to coast the car to the side of the road, not that there wasn't much of one, and found himself unable to get the car to start again.

Sighing Dean opened his door, just as the sky let loose a deluge; he could feel that strange waiting sensation building up again. "Double damn." Dean really didn't want to try fixing the car in the rain, but he also didn't want to be stuck in the woods for an unknowable amount of time.

For a moment Dean was torn before deciding that the safety of his car mattered more than his discomfort. He really was loath to let his baby sit on the side of the road in the dark for too long.

Stepping into the river outside, Dean resigned himself to uncomfortable clothes. It didn't take him long to find the spots where certain vital parts should have been, Dean figured his engine must have had some help getting to its current state. Those kids hadn't been the happiest of campers when he and Sam chased them away.

Sighing again, Dean figured he was already wet and Sam would just have to deal with the water too.

Dean knocked his knuckles on the window by Sam's head. "Hey, wake up man."

With a startled gasp, Sam blinked around himself, scrubbing at his face with both hands before cracking the door open. He eyed the deluge, and then Dean. "What is it? Is something wrong?"

"Yeah, man, the car is dead."

"Oh. Well. Fix it then."

Dean rolled his eyes to the pouring heavens, his brother might be a genius at school, but when it came to the down and dirty he surely was clueless. "I would if I could, Sam, but we're missing a part. Our choices for the night would be, stay here in the cold, or head back to that house where at least those," Dean hesitated, trying to hold back his anger, "_kids_, left a space heater."

Within minutes of stepping outside of the car, Sam was just as soaked as Dean. They slipped through the mud side by side dreaming of the warmth soon to come. That feeling plaguing Dean increased with every step they took, Dean felt like they were walking into something, something that would be highly unpleasant.

"Funny, I don't remember the house being this far away…" Sam mused to himself

"I don't see how you would know; you were asleep almost as soon as I started the car."

Sam glared at his brother a bit, he could understand why Dean was pissed, but it didn't mean that the elder Winchester had to take out his frustration on his brother.

It seemed forever before they crested the hill that would lead them to the house. But something was very off.

As the brothers stood in the rain at the top of the hill, they could see cars. Quite a lot of cars actually, they covered the front yard of the small house, some even parking out on the dirt lane. There were lights on in every room, the house seemed a beacon in the night, it shone so brightly.

"What the hell…" Dean mused out loud, earlier that day the house appeared abandoned, that was why the kids were using it for their pranks, no one ever went there.

"You think they came back?" looking at his older brother Sam began to slosh through the muck towards the glow below them.

The longer they walked the harder the rain fell, it seemed. Both brothers were soaked through completely, and even if the kids were back at the house, being in there was much better than being outside.

It didn't take them long to get to the front door, each shivering. Dean was more than willing to just walk in, while Sam was of the opinion that they should knock first. They stood on the porch debating amongst each other, finally reaching the point where rock paper scissors was the only possible way to end the argument. Both brothers new they would be knocking, but Dean was too stubborn to admit it.

As they raised their fists, the door swung open onto the gloomy interior. Surprised, the brothers hesitated before going in, eventually their need for warmth drove them inside.

The front foyer was surprisingly dark considering all of the lights that were visible from the outside, it was also surprisingly quiet. They couldn't hear the sounds of the people that must be in the next room, they could hear the clock ticking away to itself, which was something that it hadn't done that afternoon.

"Maybe whoever is here fixed it?" Sam eyed his brother's nervous form.

Dean was staring about himself, green eyes wide; he didn't appear to hear Sam at all. "Doesn't this place look familiar to you? Like you've seen it somewhere before?"

"Bno, Deanb," Sam sounded more annoyed with his older brother, and like his cold was becoming worse.

"Whatever dude, but I've got a bad feeling about this. This place seems really familiar, and familiar in a bad way. A bend over and cough, bad way."

Sam shook his head and continued on down the hall. There was a light coming from a room just off the stairs. The light glowed warmly, but Dean still worried about the suspicious quiet.

"Are you cumbing?" Sam disappeared into the yellow light.

Following his brother, Dean stepped into the bright yellow light. Blinking to adjust his eyes better, Dean got his first look at the people surrounding them.

They were dressed in tuxedos, all of them, the kind with tails on the back of the coat. Everyone also wore bow ties, with masks. They appeared to have stopped in the middle pf a group dance of some sort, Dean felt his stomach drop lower.

"Hi, we're habing sombe car trouble. Do you kndow andyone who could hep us?"

Dean just wanted to get out of the place. Run away as far and as fast as he could, before the orchestra hiding just out of sight broke into an orchestrated rendition of the Time Warp. He was beginning to remember where he knew this place from, and he really didn't want to be here. "Please, Sammy, let's just go!" Dean spoke at Sam, not really caring if his words were offending anyone, he just wanted to get away. Already he was backing towards the door.

A low thrum started in the floor, Dean could feel it in his feet; it ran up his spine before spreading out to the stage set up across the room. Squealing gears brought a throne into view, a throne that contained a familiar visage.

It was the Yellow Eyed Demon, Dean would recognize him anywhere, to make things even more frightening, he was wearing almost nothing, and the little he had on was made of tight leather. Terrified, Dean began to search frantically for his brother who had apparently disappeared.

"Sam! SAM! We have to leave, now!"

Shouting now, Dean began pushing past the people he hadn't noticed surround him.

"He's over here, Dean" YED's voice called to Dean from his throne.

Turning, Dean stared in horror at a vision of Sam that he never wished to see. His brother was wearing nothing, except a yellow-gold pair of underwear. Dean knew what was going to happen, he'd seen this movie before a thousand times. Knew where it was going to end, and that was a thought he didn't want to entertain.

Something hit him from behind, propelling him towards the throne. Screaming, eyes closed, Dean began to pummel his fists, hitting anything he came into contact with.

"Dude! What's wrong with you?" Dean opened his eyes, focusing in on Sam's face.

"Sam don't do it!"

"Don't do what?"

"YED, he was just…" Dean's eyes circled the room once. Taking in the open motel door, the two beds and the mindless drone of the TV playing the last scene of Rocky Horror Picture Show. Embarrassed, Dean leaned back in his chair. "Well, this is awkward."

* * *

Well, this one ended a little suddenly... but I spent so much time on the opening that I was sick of it by the time Igot down to the end. Oh well, it is way long as well, I am still not in the hang of writing short things. 


	13. An Unseelie Problem

This is for the theme Goblins

Don't Own, Don't sue

* * *

An Unseelie Problem 

"Dude, it wasn't me." Dean gave Sam his best and most convincing, or at least what he hoped was his best and most convincing, "I-am-completely-innocent" face. Judging by the look on Sam's face, it wasn't that convincing. The only problem was, this time at least, Dean hadn't done anything.

"Why is it that every time something happens you blame me?" Dean could feel the anger rising in his face.

"Maybe because whenever something happens, it IS your fault Dean!"

"That's not fair! It's not true either!" Dean couldn't believe Sam was getting this upset over a shirt, a shirt that just a few tears in it.

"Whatever Dean, what about the itching powder, or the Nair?"

"I can't believe you'd bring up something from so long ago man, you were like, what, twelve? Besides, what about the superglue? I think it's been tit for tat!"

"You're so childish Dean!" Sam was near speechless; he threw the shirt down on his bed and stormed out of the room slamming the door behind him.

Honestly, Dean couldn't see what Sam was so upset about, it was just a shirt. They could get more. Besides, it wasn't like Dean had ever done anything this bad, well, the Nair might have been, but Dean had grown since then, not to mention so had Sam's hair. None of his pranks caused any lasting damage; nothing was irrevocably ruined, anymore. Unlike the superglue, Dean had pulled most of the skin off his hand trying to get that damned bottle off.

Something was weird though, Dean was pretty sure that Sam wouldn't rip his own clothes up, and Dean was fairly certain that he wasn't the one who put the shirt through the shredder. He rose from his reclined position on his bed, figuring he'd better see just what sort of tears the shirt had.

He looked at the rag on the bed and understood why Sam was so angry, even with a large obviously intended hole through Papa Smurf's face Dean could recognize the shirt as the one that Jessica had worn the night he came to get Sam. This would explain why Sam was so upset; Dean didn't even know that it was one of the things that Sam brought with him from his apartment, hadn't even been aware that anything really survived the blaze. Lifting the small shirt Dean wondered why Sam would believe that he would be so cruel as to destroy something that was possibly the only thing Sam had left of his former life.

Darkness grew outside the windows; Dean debated about calling Sam, but then decided against it. He didn't know what to say that wouldn't make Sam any less angry than he already was.

It was late, Sam wasn't back meaning he was really REALLY angry with Dean, and there had been odd happenings all over the tiny motel room ever since he had left. Dean tried to keep calm, he didn't want to call Sam, that would only confirm his guilt in Sam's eyes, but it was hard to stay stoic when bags of chips exploded in your hands, or remote controls were flung across the room at you.

At the moment Dean wasn't even sure if he could find his phone to call Sam if he wanted to. So many things had been flung at him and there was nowhere he could go to escape. He tried leaving, but the lock on the door wouldn't budge, the windows would neither open nor break. Everything he tried to do just meant that more things would go horribly wrong.

His last attempt at escape had caused the massive attack of pinching that only recently subsided. Thousands of tiny invisible, yet strong, fingers grabbing at him from all sides; he only got them to stop by rolling around on the floor like he was on fire.

Currently he was hiding behind the bed, wracking his brains about what sort of creature it could be and how he could stop them. Unfortunately there were so many different types of mischief spirits and it was nearly impossible to tell them apart without further research on the computer. The computer that was sitting on the table, the table over in the kitchen area, a place that was a million miles away for his ability to get there.

For now he was stuck. At least things were currently calm, nothing was moving. Dean's courage also began to creep back. Slowly, he crawled out from behind the bed, freezing like a deer searching for predators, muscles tensed. Any sign of movement and he would dash back to the corner and the relative safety contained therein.

Pushing himself into a standing position, but still slightly crouched, Dean hurried over to the computer. Loading up the internet, Dean typed in the experiences he was having.

Something slid across the floor, the sound of Sam's bed, coming closer to him, stalking him like a lion. Dean impatiently tapped his fingers on the table, pointedly not looking at the creeping bed. Only a few more seconds and he would know what he was dealing with.

Flinging himself from the chair just as the bed pounced; Dean tucked himself and rolled towards the refrigerator. Something was now pounding on the door, but Dean was too busy to even try and figure out what it was. He grabbed the handle, hoping that they had thought to buy groceries this week.

The bed was maneuvering itself around the fallen chairs, now being aided in its search and destroy mission by the table itself. Dean heard the computer fall onto the floor and winced, Sam was not going to be happy about that one. Reaching inside Dean grabbed the milk just as the fridge door slammed shut on his arm. Shouting in pain Dean lurched backwards, falling over the bed which immediately tried to buck him off and stop him underneath its feet. Rolling away from the madness of the live appliances, Dean hit his safe corner and the iron radiator beside his bed. Nothing on his side of the room had been touched.

Dean held his arm to his chest, knowing he was going to have a some pretty wicked bruises if he made it out of here.

The pounding on the door grew more insistent, but Dean still couldn't focus on that right now. The bed and table had him surrounded, pinning him into his corner while the fridge stopped menacingly in the kitchen, being hindered in its pursuit by the short cord.

Dean tried to think of something else he could do to stop the rampaging goblins in his room. They cut him off from offering them milk, the only other thing he could do was try and chase them away. He knew iron worked as a ward, but his guns were on the other side of his bed. Steeling himself Dean slithered onto his own bed, large books and other knickknacks around the room pelting him as he made the slow trek. The pinching began again as well.

Reaching one hand out, Dean grabbed the bag full of guns, trying to heft it one handed while he protected his head and face from flying objects with the other.

That was when the most frightening sound he heard all night met his ears. These goblins were not merely annoyed by something, they were pissed. The tiny angry cries clamored together as they raised Sam's bed as high as it would go, the mattress squashing flat against the ceiling. Dean found himself staring at the four steel legs of the bed frame, hearing the springs give squealing groans as they were pushed beyond their limits.

"Shit!" Dean threw himself off his bed just as the other came crashing down upon it, his leg getting pinned underneath the heavy bed. These goblins were out to kill him.

Sliding the bag of guns onto his chest Dean noticed for the first time that his nose was bleeding and for the first time entertained the thought that the goblins might succeed in their task.

Finally, the door burst inward. "What the hell, Dean…" Sam's voice faded away, he stood speechless, the landlady behind him.

"I am so glad to see you, man, you have no idea."

The landlady had come prepared. She set the bowl of milk with honey down outside the door, coaxing the enraged fey outside.

It took some work, but the bed was eventually lifted off Dean's leg, releasing him and the room was set somewhat to rights again. Dean still didn't know what had turned the brownie sprites into goblins, and so long as they didn't do it again he didn't really care. Already he could feel the aches and bruises rising from his little adventure and just wanted to sleep.

They decided to find a different motel for the night, even though the owner was certain that she had calmed the brownies enough for them to stay the night Dean didn't want to chance another fight like the one he just experienced. There was just something about having an entire room attack you that makes you only wish to experience it once.


	14. Revenge is Sweet but Bats are Fuzzier

This one is for the theme Bats

I don't own them... but I would so fight someone for them

* * *

A Little Batty 

They were his biggest fear, his biggest fear but with wings. Sam knew that his brother hated rats, so he then figured that bats would be much worse. He waited in the dark of the bathroom for his brother to come in. It would serve him right, after the shampoo incident.

At least his hair was growing back, finally.

The small bat Sam bought looked realistic enough. It would serve Sam's purposes. He thought about finding a real bat, but decided he didn't want to risk killing the poor defenseless animal just to get back at his brother. That was something only Dean would be cruel enough to do.

He heard Dean and their dad come home, from the sounds of things the hunt had gone okay. Sam was glad about that at least, it might make him feel bad if he were to plan all this after a hunt gone bad. It sounded like neither Dean nor his dad was hurt which was a good thing.

"Where's your brother at?" Sam could hear John's voice loud and clear through the partially closed bathroom door.

"How should I know, I've been with you remember?" It sounded like Dean was headed towards the bathroom, probably to take a shower.

The bathroom door flew open, hitting the wall by Sam hard and bouncing back. It was a good thing Sam was only twelve and could still fit behind doors. Apparently Dean was suspecting something, but Sam knew to be patient. His brother might be the most paranoid person Sam has ever known, but he knew that Dean's obsessive need for showers would outweigh any possibility of a prank attack.

At one point, Sam had entertained putting Nair in Dean's shampoo, but his brother would never let him live it down that Sam needed to resort to copying Dean's own work. Besides, Dean kept his shampoo hidden, buying it special and burying it places where neither John nor Sam could ever find.

The door pushed open again, less violently this time, followed by Dean's form strolling in. Sam knew his time to attack was know, before Dean turned the light on. Flinging the bat at his brother's face Sam made a few high pitched squeaking noises. Dean batted at the bat, falling backwards out of the dark room before getting a real look at the bat that had chased him out.

"Man, that was so lame." He glared at Sam's laughing face.

"Yeah, but you should have seen the look on your face. You deserve it anyway." Lifting his baseball cap off his head to show his baldness to Dean.


	15. Toilets and Tombs

This is for the theme Mummies

Wow, finally another short one. I really need to get more of these out and not write books...

I don't own them, all I own is a Slightly Used Ford Explorer...

* * *

Toilets and Tombs

"Dean, this is lame. I wanted to be a real mummy, like the ones on TV." Obviously, the toilet paper wrap wasn't making Sammy happy with his Halloween costume.

"I'm sorry man, but this is the best I can do for now. Dad's not here and I couldn't afford anything more than this." Dean spun Sam around, holding the toilet paper out to wrap his younger brother's midsection. "At least this year Dad agreed to take you out, right?"

"Yeah." Sam still sounded down, but the prospect of going out trick-or-treating for the first time brightened some of his spirits.

"Besides, regular mummies are so lame, everyone goes as regular mummies."

"You sure? Would you go as a regular mummy, or a toilet paper mummy?" Dean paused for a moment, giving Sam the impression that he was really thinking hard on the subject.

"Of course I would choose a toilet paper mummy. Public bathrooms are far more frightening than ancient tombs any day."

Dean spun Sam one more time, wrapping the last roll of toilet paper around his brother's chest. "Alright King Toot-en-common, you're all done." Sam giggled at the name, just happy to be allowed the chance to trick-or-treat.


	16. Wolf's Bane

This is for the theme Werewolves

I don't own them... I wish I did...

* * *

Wolf's Bane 

His feet thudded through the undergrowth; he could only hope that he didn't trip. This one wouldn't fall for the bait they left for it, for three nights they waited, setting out the animal carcasses.

Finally they decided to try and track down the creature; they couldn't wait for it to come to them.

Gasping, Dean wished that John set up base a little closer, that he hadn't needed to go quite so far to find the creature. At least he couldn't feel the werewolf breathing down the back of his neck anymore. He just knew it was there, stalking him, waiting for him to tire out.

After what seemed like forever, Dean finally came to the clearing John designated as their base camp. He nearly collapsed from exhaustion as the miles of running for his life caught up to him. Stumbling, he crossed to his hiding place. The monster was nowhere to be seen.

John's voice crackled across the walkie-talkie. "Where is it Dean?"

Dean thought it had been right behind him, but apparently he was wrong.

"It should be here," Dean rose from his position, trying to get a better view of the clearing.

Everything was quiet, waiting. "I don't know Dad. Maybe it caught the trail of something else on our way back here."

Still hidden, Dean could see that there was nothing in the clearing and it sounded like nothing heading towards the clearing. The slight breeze making the leaves in the trees move was the only sound that could be heard.

That was when Dean smelt it. The rotten smelling breath and dank fur overwhelming Dean's senses as the creature came up from behind him.

"Shit," Dean didn't turn, just lunged forward into the clearing. He felt the teeth of the beast click closed right behind his neck, missing him by mere inches. Two large paws slammed into Dean from behind, knocking him forward before pinning him to the ground.

John saw the creature fall off his son when he fired the sliver shot. From the way its head jerked backwards John knew it was an instant kill. He only worried that he was too late to save Dean. His son wasn't moving as John ran across the clearing towards the prone form.

"Dean, Dean! Wake up buddy, come on." John touched Dean's back, feeling his hand come away slick with blood. His son's eyes were glazed, but open, they also moved slightly at the sound of John's voice. It didn't take long for the infection to spread from a werewolf attack, John knew, but so long as the wounds weren't mortal then there were ways in which to damper the disease.

It was too risky to move Dean right now, so John merely tried to treat them from where Dean lay. John placed as much gauze as he could over the largest gashes; they went from the top of Dean's shoulders down to the top of his jeans. There were probably more, but these were the ones that seemed the worst, these would be the ones that would need stitching closed.

"Come on, man, we need to get you up."

Back at the motel, John found the herbs he would need to stop the infection. Mixing the mess into a large porridge type mixture, spooning it to Dean as his son huddled under every blanket they had.

For now it would be a waiting game, they wouldn't know if the herbs worked for sure until the next full moon.


	17. Is it Real?

This is for the theme Haunted House

I don't own them, I can pretend sometimes though.

* * *

Is it Real?

"Wow, this is so lame man." Dean sat next to his brother in the lurching car.

"Yeah, I mean, who things vampires dress like that? And since when do ghosts make cow sounds?"

The brothers were not afraid to show their disdain towards the small carnival's haunted house as they traveled through it. They were only here because of a school wide trip, instead of holding classes the entire school decided to go to the fair in town for the day.

Sam would have preferred to have classes, though Dean seemed to be having a good time. There was no carnie game he could not beat, it was just Dean's talent, he was a natural at all games that involved cheating or swindling in some way or another.

Another mannequin popped out of the wall, this time its head fell off onto the track, causing the car to stagger to a halt.

"I am so impressed." Sam sighed and shifted uncomfortably in the seat, his legs had grown a lot over the summer and these seats were not made for people taller than four feet.

They sat in silence for a while, waiting for the ride to restart itself. "You know Dean."

"Hmm."

"Isn't it kinda sad that we can't even enjoy rides like this, not that I am saying kids our age would be terrified by a ride like this, but we shouldn't be able to compare these fakes to the real thing. There's something kinda messed up about that, y'know?"

Dean gave Sam a sidelong glance before answering. "Well, it's something that has to be done, besides there was a time when you would have thought this was as real as they came. I remember having to give a certain someone several talks about the monster under the bed."

Jokingly Dean elbowed Sam in the side. "Come on, man, lets get out of here. I'd prefer to walk then wait for them to realize its stopped. We'll die in here first, then they'll have some real things to deal with." Dean climbed out of the car, kicking the mannequin's head off the side of the track.

This was something easier said then done for Sam, finally he managed to awkwardly climb out of the car just as the ride started up again. The brothers ducked out one of the side exists.


	18. The Sad Crying Clown

This is for the theme Costumes

I don't own them, I so wish I did

* * *

The Sad Crying Clown

"Well, I found two costumes, but you're not gonna like them Sammy."

Sam glanced up at his brother entering the room, caring in his arms two bags that appeared to be full of brightly colored cloth.

Already he suspected why he would not like these costumes. The colors were far too happy to be anything else. As Dean stepped closer, Sam could feel himself shrink back. Why did they have to do this investigation during a costume party? Why couldn't the ghost haunt a library? Why did they know for certain that it was going to attack tonight, during the costume party?

Trying to hold some of his laughter back, Dean tossed one of the bags at Sam. "You can back out any time man, I can handle this one on my own."

Sam knew that if he did he probably wouldn't ever hear the end of it, but why? "Are you sure these were the only costumes you could find?" Sam's voice was horrified and plaintive as he dared a peak into the top of the bag.

"Yup, every place was sold out. I couldn't find anything else."

Sam didn't know whether to believe his brother or not, but it was Halloween, so it was kind of late to be looking for costumes. It was entirely possible that this was the only thing Dean could find.

"Come on Bozo, we've got a party to attend."


	19. Sweet Treats

This is for the theme Carmel Apples

It is short, sweet (pun intended) and to the point.

I don't own them...if I did the Caramel would not be just for apples alone _winkwink_

* * *

Sweet Treats

They were sticky. They were sweet. They were like nothing he had ever eaten before.

Mary couldn't help but laugh at her four year old. Normally they couldn't get him to touch anything that might contain something healthy, but the caramel apples she made had Dean's entire attention wrapped up in their sticky folds.

Staring intently as she placed the sugar and other ingredients into a sauce pan, he was even willing to help Mary dip the apples. Dean even managed to wait patiently as Mary meticulously dipped and twirled each apple setting them out to cool.

Now came the part that Dean was waiting for. Eating the sweet treats.

"I thought you didn't like apples?"

Dean's young face, smeared with caramel, smiled brightly at his mother. "These aren't apples, Mommy, these're candy!" His innocent green eyes held all the truth of this statement Mary needed to know.

"Mmm, you know what? I think little Sammy likes them too." Mary placed Dean's hand over the baby in her belly so he could feel his little brother kick.

"I think he wants another, Mommy!" Mary laughed as Dean reached for another of the sticky treats, one for himself, not Sammy.


	20. In the Blackest Night

This is for the theme Midnight

I don't own them, the adventures they would have if I did...

* * *

In the Blackest Night

It was that time again; Dean glanced down at his watch. More often then not he would find himself awake, waiting for something to happen. Sometimes he would find himself staring into the night sky or watching a static colored TV.

It was harder on the nights that he was out hunting, as he trudged through the countless houses or forests alone when he knew that it wasn't too long ago that he, his dad and possibly Sammy would all be out together. Even though his father and brother were arguing more often then not, especially towards the end, at least they were together. But those moments were gone.

First his brother left him, heading off to college. Not that Dean could blame him really. He didn't know how many countless times he thought about leaving. He was always called back, though, he never even ran away once. The thought of leaving his brother and father alone terrified him, terrified him as much as being left alone. Ever since his mom died Dean had taken it upon himself to try and hold the family together, trying to balance out Sammy and John's strong wills so they wouldn't tear each other apart. Look how well he did that job.

His brother left, trying to find a "normal" life, one without the monsters in the dark. At least he gave a reason, though. John just left one night. No explanation, nothing, just abandonment.

It was always the worst at midnight. As the day and night evened out it became harder to keep his thoughts positive, harder to function in the world he had been placed in.

Dean sighed as he crossed to the Impala, the only constant in his life, the only safety he had. Dark as the midnight cloak that twisted his thoughts, yet something he could hide in. In the midnight of the Impala he could pretend that everyone was still together, that life was as normal as he ever knew it to be and he would wake up in the morning with a father and brother who would not want to leave him.


	21. Candles Shade the Moon

This is for the theme VooDoo

I am really uncertain about posting this, it is really dark and has highly mature themes, nothing to explicit but it is there if you don't blink. I contemplated posting it as its own separate fic, but for prosperities sake I put it in here. Another warning is that this is not linear at all, only at the beginning and end, it works better this way.

I really do want feedback people, I know you are reading it, I would like some reviews! Not to sound all whiny and everything but the reviews really do help a lot.

* * *

Candles Shade the Moon

It was nights like these when the moon rode high in the velvet sky, a clear and bright orb, and the crickets chirped their tiny symphony in the grass that Dean could almost remember what happened.

It was the worst pain Dean had ever experienced. Jabbing needles pushed deep into his limbs pinning not only his physical form but his spirit like a fly to the table.

She wanted him, ever since he stepped into town; she knew she had to have him. He would be perfect for her collection. She would be his lagniappe, something she got for working so hard. She didn't know that he was here to try and exorcise her.

They overpowered him in the swamps. All of the reports greatly underestimated the amount of zombies she controlled.

Looming over him, leaning over his face, Dean could smell her, a sultry mix of ginger and herbs, dirt, sweat and something altogether unpleasant. She kissed his brow like a mother with her child. "I'm doing this because I love you. I want to keep you forever, forever beautiful my love." She ran a hand over his brow in a soothing gesture, trying to rub away the fright and anger lines, knowing that the boy wouldn't be able to respond. "It may hurt now I know, but soon the pain will go away. All the pain. What lover could guarantee you that?"

The candlelight flickers, Dean isn't aware of where he is, let alone the time.

He was waiting for her, a descendant of the White Witch, trying to continue in her great-great grandmother's footsteps. She thought she could rule, but she hadn't met Dean Winchester.

Yellow orange powder, sprinkled onto his face, effectively obscured his vision of the small room and her, she who danced around giggling like a child for her new toy.

The candles flickered again in some unseen draft. She said there was no escape from this room, but a draft meant there were holes, possibly ones large enough to escape through. If only he could get off the table.

She worked hard to gain this much control. Finding new servants for herself as well as bringing those of her ancestor back under control. It took a lot of sacrifice, a lot of spilt blood. The boy dared threaten it all, ignoring the unspoken fear she held over her bayou. It had taken years to get the White Witch legacy once again whispered in the streets of the Crescent City. She wasn't going to let it all go that easy.

Dean hadn't hesitated, dropping each slave that attacked. He wasn't sure if some of these people were alive still and that made him sloppy. He wasn't trying to kill them. Ultimately, Dean was brought down by the White Witch's Children's Crusade. Twelve of them, none more than 15 in age, swarmed him, beating him into unconsciousness. That was something Dean could never do, strike a child.

The doll lay on a smaller table, pinned down with long, silver nails. They glowed in the faint candlelight. Shadows casting about the small figure like tiny fingers. The pain stopped.

It was his mouth that always got him in trouble, it would never stay closed when it should. She took care of that.

Running. He was running through the swamp. Knowing it was dangerous to do so had taken a back seat to the feelings of escape.

He was surprised when he awoke that she hadn't already performed the ritual that would bind him to her forever, but she wanted him to watch.

Every stitch through the face of the doll sent waves of agony through Dean. The pins in its arms prevented Dean from even clutching at his face. Every fiber of the course thread rubbed burns as it wound its way into the penetrated flesh of his lips sealing them together with invisible string. Each time the curved needle pushed its way through the fabric of the doll a phantom seamstress mirrored the move on Dean. The tender skin of his lips split for the stitches, filling his mouth with blood from wounds that would not show themselves.

The beautiful skin of the boy glimmered in her candlelight. She traced designs on his bare flesh no one knew but her, each one binding him closer to her. Stealing his _ti bon ange._ He would be special, this one, more than just a dog to serve his mistress's purpose, but a pet to serve her need. She couldn't wait until those green orbs stared at her with the vacant adoration she deserved.

He spent days spying on her, as she spied on him.

The powders blended so perfectly with the freckled skin, sliding down the smooth slopes and plains until it came to rest in the low places, like the navel. She traced her fingers through the dust; lightly following the curve of Dean's straining musculature before swirling into the runes.

It amused her that he still struggled to escape. She took him then before all the fight was gone from those green orbs. "I will be the owner of this heart, this soul. You're mine."

Pain seemed to be his world now; pain and a creeping numbness spreading from his heart with every beat. She was everywhere. She was simultaneously on top of him and next to him, underneath and above him, swaying backwards and forwards while staying perfectly still. She was inside of him and had become his world.

The candlelight shimmered, painting the two in gold and black.

She came around the corner to face a gun. Her puppet had cut its strings.

He didn't realize coming out of the trance until he had her gris-gris bag in his hand. It felt slimy to him, and alive. He could feel the hearts of the countless numbers she had enslaved and kept for her luck.

He left her sobbing on the floor, taking all her magic, leaving her alone and empty. Dean wouldn't kill her, part of him was tied to tightly for that, but he could leave her alone.

It wasn't until later that Dean found he had been missing for the better part of two weeks. No one knew he was missing, Dean wasn't sure if anyone would ever have known, he was on his own now.

For many nights Dean could not stand to sleep, fearing that his mistress would come for him. Dean haunted the city, not quite able to bring himself to leave; it frightened him that the bokor got him that far under her spell. He could feel her, just out of sight, behind every corner he thought he might stumble into her and that would be the end of him. Part of him, a large part, didn't mind the idea.

He kept her gris-gris with him, until he finally decided to leave New Orleans, burning it just outside the state line. He hoped that it set the zombies free, that by burning it he would be set free.

Dean couldn't be so lucky. On nights when the moon rode high, he remembered, vague, half formed images of what went on in those two weeks. He heard her call on those nights, pleading with him to come back to her. Be owned by someone who would never let him go, never abandon him.

These were things he would never tell Sam, they were his secrets. If Sam suspected something on those nights that Dean couldn't sleep and spent the time until dawn lying in bed, sometimes whimpering or moaning, he never said anything.

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Remember, Read and Review Please! 


	22. Cute Little Devil

This one is for the theme Devil

I had to write something cute and fluffy for poor Dean after the last one and this one is ultra short. Hooray!

I don't own them, but boy do I wish I did...

* * *

A Cute Little Devil 

"I don't think we could've found anything more fitting." John stated as he watched his first born skip around the room, trident held high in the air. The long red tail whipped out behind Dean as he cavorted around the room. At three and a half the young parents already knew that their son was going to be a handful.

"If right now is going to give us a picture of Halloweens to come Dean will be the child to give all the other little demons hell. Probably toilet papering people's houses and generally running amok in the neighborhood by the time he turns six." John laughed at his son's antics as he stabbed at whatever it was three year olds think devils need to stab at.

Mary nodded her head in full agreement. Terrible twos had not been enough to prepare them for this child. She could only hope that their next would be less work. Rubbing her belly she tried to picture her two children trick-or-treating together. She didn't even think of what it would be like to have a girl; she knew this one was going to be a boy. Just like she also knew that Dean would not let anything happen to his baby brother, little devil that he was right now or not.

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Reviews are appriciated! 


	23. A Dean in the Box

This is for the theme Coffin

I don't really like it, this one was really quick, but I have a test to go take in a few moments and I just wanted to get this out.

I don't own them, I may attempt a coup of the CW soon tho, who's with me?

* * *

A Dean in the Box

Everything had gone wrong, so very wrong. It was dark and cramped and Dean knew why he wanted to be in here. The problem was, he also knew that it was dark and cramped and boring. Waiting for the cretin to come and commit a little skullduggery.

The only reason Sam wasn't the one in the coffin was that they couldn't find one big enough for the 17 year old gigantor to fit in. Dean stuck his tongue out at Sam in the dark, they knew the warlock needed bodies and the Winchesters made sure that Dean's would be the only one available at the time. He could just imagine that Sam and John were laughing Dean's situation up, that they were somewhere less dark, less cramped and far less boring.

"Man, this sucks." Dean shifted uncomfortably in the small space. They were attempting to wait far a warlock; unfortunately the Winchesters were the only ones who knew that the warlock was coming to steal bodies. This misinformation on the part of everyone resulted in Dean being subjected to a premature burial today, a first for him. The coffin they chose was apparently sound proof, and the gravediggers just dumb enough to not realize the shifting around in the coffin was not caused by their own movements. Dean couldn't push the lid open, John had locked him in, and all his shouts and thuds went unheard. That left him alone, in the box, with just his thoughts.

Dean had the feeling that this would be one of Sam's last hunts, while looking for a clean shirt in Sam's bag he stumbled upon a stash of college papers. Not wanting to cause a scene Dean hid them again, deciding to wait until Sam was ready before they would talk about anything. Dean knew how much his brother wanted to go, could see it in the wandering look in his brown eyes and the way he always seemed to be on edge. Even the standard arguments between his father and Sam were far more hostile and more combustible.

A rattling of the box around him let Dean know that his saviors were coming. He could only wonder why John and Sam had taken so long to come find him.

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Reviews are nice and keep me writing! 


	24. Not All Cats Can Dance

This is for the theme Black Cats

This one's all about Sam

The further I go in this challenge the less thought I put into these, ah well.

I don't own them... I wish I did

* * *

Not All Cats Can Dance

It had to be the worst day of Sam's life. Everywhere he went something went wrong.

The whole day started innocently enough, breakfast at a diner. The type that he used to eat at a lot with his Dad and Dean, it was odd to think of it in the past tense like that, used to.

As he reached across the table for some pepper to put on his hash browns he managed to knock over the salt shaker, spilling a few of the clear granules across the table. If he were superstitious, Sam would've learned to head back home and stay in bed, but almost in defiance of his old life and to welcome the new; Sam ignored the small spill and continued on with his meal.

It would be the second month of classes coming up and nothing could damper Sam's mood. Not even the ketchup he managed to dribble on his pants. It was no big deal though, his dorm was close to his first class and he had an hour before it started.

Walking back to his dorm, Sam managed to trip three times on various bumps in the sidewalk and still he thought nothing was wrong with the day. Sam also noticed that there seemed to be an over abundance of black cats blending in with the shadows of the many bushes across campus but thought nothing of them.

Back in his room, Sam's luck grew worse. He managed to snag his foot in the leg of his pants and in his hopping knocked the mirror hanging behind the door off the wall and shattered it.

Cursing under his breath Sam tried to shovel the pieces into the garbage can, cutting a few of his fingers.

Taking care of that problem Sam began to dig through his clothes, about halfway through the pile Sam realized he hadn't done any of his laundry lately. He had been too busy having a normal lie to worry about the clothes piling higher. This past week had been his awakening to the fact that John wouldn't come barging in to wake him up for morning training, that Dean wouldn't be there to go through his stuff and be the nosey big brother. Unfortunately, that meant Sam had neglected to take care of a few things that he normally would have. Laundry was much harder to remember when it wasn't covered in blood.

Finding a pair that was reasonably less dirty than the others Sam made his way back outside. Glancing down at his watch he noticed that he still had plenty of time to make it to class.

On his way there he tripped three more times, walked under some random ladder that he wasn't sure what it was set up for and not only had his path crossed by a black cat but managed to step in the middle of three that were fighting.

Finally managing to stumble into class just as it was letting out Sam glanced at his watch again. The hands had not moved at all since he changed his pants. He must have broken it when he tripped, one of the times he tripped anyway.

Sighing Sam stumbled back towards his room. Crossing the quad he didn't notice the three cats from earlier stalking him. They ghosted behind Sam, three black shadows a little bit quicker than the rest. Sam wandered aimlessly, unaware that he was headed for a large group of people.

Just as he passed the first group of people, still in front of the prettiest girls in his ethics class the cats attacked.

Lunging at Sam's legs the three cats hit him in time to send the boy face first into the girl, knocking her as well as himself onto the grass.

"Clumsy!" the girl stated, trying to control her giggles.

"Actually it's Sammy, Sam, I mean, not Sammy." Sam couldn't believe he slipped into his brother's lame nickname for himself.

"Well, I'm Jessica."

Later, Sam found out that she never saw the mystery cats. After he stumbled into Jessica his bad luck seemed to disappear as well along with all the cats.


	25. Treats or Else

This is for the theme Tricks and Treats

Sorry about the amount of sheer dialouge in this one but I never really do much of that so there's always a first for everything

I don't own them

Have you ever Criscoe'd a driveway...

* * *

Treats... or Else

"Is this the house?"

"Yeah."

"Still got the eggs?"

"Yeah."

"Shaving cream?"

"Yeah, but…"

"Crisco?"

"Why do we need Crisco Dean?"

"Who's the one who's done this before? Just trust me Sam; the Crisco will come all in good time."

The Winchester brothers snuck up to the house, careful not to trip over the lawn ornaments set out. "Jesus, Sam, why'd you think this guy would give you any candy? He's still go his flamingo's out!"

Sam ducked his head sheepishly. "Well, I kinda figured that he would. Everyone else had."

Somehow, Dean could not blame the kid, it was his first time by himself after all; and there was no excuse for denying a kid candy on Halloween. Dean hefted some toilet paper in his hand, this would teach the old fart, or at least make him regret the day he ever called Dean Winchester's younger brother a snot nosed little brat in rags.

This would be a Halloween one old man would never forget.


	26. Virtual Reaping

This is for the theme Reaping

I know, I know, it is lame... Alantie and I had the same idea at the same time actually... Dean and video games

So, ehem, I own neither Supernatural nor Silent Hill... but I thought since Pyramid Head is often referred to as a reaper...

* * *

Virtual Reapers

Dean found himself walking down the bleeding hallway. With a loud blare the light had faded, placing Dean into one of the lower levels of Hell. He couldn't really tell if the walls were bleeding or just terribly rusted though.

Carrying his pipe at the ready, it being bent from over use, he knew it would only be a matter of time before he needed to find something else with which to beat off the demons let loose upon him in this crazy place. He could hear the loose tile crunch underneath his boots as he slowly wound his way through the maze.

So far he had been attacked by no less than thirty things, none being of a breed of demon he could identify. Well, none that he could identify by looks; others were wearing uniforms of a sort. Looked kind of like nurses.

That was when the rattling started, the sound of a thousand, thousand bugs crawling across the metal floor.

They hit him like a title wave, swarming over his bare legs, up his skirt… Pyramid Head came next, tearing the flesh from his bones with one swift jerk of his hand.

The light from the front door opening flared across the TV screen, sending Dean into the sounds that meant he had died. That another game was over.

"Damn it Sam! I was almost done that time too!"

Dean Winchester could handle real reapers, it was those fake ones that gave him trouble.


	27. Phobias

This is for the theme Masks

I don't own them, but I wish I did

* * *

Phobias

Sam could trace his fear of clowns back to one specific date.

It was the first time he ever saw one. It was at the fair and things were going fine, for once their dad took a week off hunting to spend some time with the boys during Sam's birthday.

They were wandering through the stalls, looking at the various games. Sam remembered because he was riding on top of John's shoulders, contentedly chewing a mass of cotton candy.

That was when the _thing_ came up behind them. At first it amused Sammy, making him giggle from atop his perch, offering him balloons.

Then everything changed. It bent down to offer Dean a balloon as well and Sammy's older brother did something Sam had never seen before. Reaching out Dean grabbed its nose, giving it a slight tug. Much to Sam's horror, what had once been a happy, smiling person became a frowning and angry looking old man. His older brother managed to pull the thing's face!

No amount of consoling would make Sam quiet, he was just too young to understand what a mask was.


	28. What Would Dean Do

This is for the theme Ghosts

I still don't own them, but I am working on it!

* * *

What Would Dean Do? 

Dean always wondered what it would be like to be a ghost, until he actually became one.

He couldn't really remember what it was like when he was in the coma, just vague images half remembered. There were a few things Dean was certain he should have done though, because they were things he promised himself he would do if he ever became a ghost, and Dean Winchester always kept his promises. Especially those made to himself.

For one, he must have tried to spy in the girls locker room at least once.

Not to mention pull a few chairs out from underneath Sammy.

Or do some other annoying ghost like things that ghosts were supposed to do… right?

These were a few things that he promised himself he would do if he were ever to become a spirit like being. So naturally he did them. The problem was, none of his slight memories were of doing any of these things.

He had the fuzzy recollection of a slumber party, but that couldn't have been anything he did. No one has slumber parties in hospitals.


	29. Witch's Brew

This is for the theme Witch

Just as a note, I think Sam has nice legs :p

Anywho, I wish I owned them, but sadly I don't

* * *

Witch's Brew

"Man, how much did you have to drink?" Dean tried to heft his younger brother to the Impala but the later kept stumbling about; in his own drunken way Sam was trying to dance with his older brother.

"I dunno, Dean. I am not a drunk, though, I only counted one drink!" Sam attempted to twirl in Dean's arm, over balancing and pulling both brothers to the ground. Lying sprawled atop Dean, Sam fell into another giggling fit, making Dean glad that he, at least, could hold his liquor.

They were on a hunt for another shape shifter and they began their hunt by looking in the only bar in town, The Witch's Brew. They got their name from a specialty drink they served, one sip of this poignant drink and Dean knew one would be his limit, if that, he didn't want his senses hindered for the night.

Within moments they managed to narrow their suspects down to two people, a mean looking biker and a sultry looking female that both brothers found themselves fighting to stay with. Dean lost the standard rock, paper, scissors fight and found himself following the biker. Now Dean was glad he couldn't ever wind that stupid game.

Over the course of the long night, the very bored inhabitants at the bar took turns buying Sam drinks. Not being one to seem impolite Sam took kept taking the drinks. He also took the high heels, long purple wig, pointed hat and slinky black dress offered. Dean had no idea where Sam's real clothes were, but he did manage to save his brother from a full out make over, intervening just as the hot chick Sam was supposed to be following put the "finishing touches" on Sam's "beautiful brown eyes".

Sighing Dean tried to stand under the added weight of his gigantor brother as well as trying to untangle them from Sam's long, purple tresses.

"Dean?" There were tears in Sam's voice now; Dean always hated his brother's mood swings when drunk. "D'you think I'm a pretty witch?"


	30. Dead Man's Blood

This is for the theme Vampires

I know, really short and I couldn't remember exactly how the Dead Man's Blood episode went... so this is it guys. Only one more to post after this and I hope that my internet demons stay away until then.

I don't own them, as we all know by now... come on, if any of us did would we be here posting fanfiction?

* * *

Dead Man's Blood

Kate watched the boy from the woods, waiting for her chance to attack. Even though the boy appears helpless, stranded by the side of the road with his hood up, she wants to be careful. There were other hunters in the area and she didn't want a run in with them if she could avoid it.

When they hit him, Kate thought it funny that the boy seemed rather nonchalant. Surprised, but still not as much as someone who was not expecting them, it was like he was waiting for something to come. This should have alerted her, but she dismissed the thought because she wouldn't have noticed if her senses weren't supernaturally keen from the vampirism.

It didn't take Kate long to figure out that he knew what she was, holding the boy up by his face she could almost see the fear in his eyes. Almost. She wanted to make that fear grow, to fan the flames and watch the boy squirm. He was a hunter, her enemy and he was vulnerable to her now.

The pain exploded into her whole being, she couldn't decide where it was coming from. The wound was not as severe as the pain it was causing. Kate turned her eyes to the green ones of the hunter, trying to see within them the answer to why she was feeling her cells shrivel and rot within her. All she found was a glimmer of triumph before the darkness enveloped her.


	31. The Birthday Massacre

This is for the final theme Ghouls. I don't really like this one that much, but I shall post it anyway. It is the next part to You Will Know Us By The Trail of Dead for Alantie since she was the only one who responded for me to continue it. I would like to thank the few of you that commented; Alantie, P3Karen, MrsKurda14 and Vio . These are the first drabbles I have ever done so thanks for taking the time to read them.

I don't own them... but boy do I wish I did

* * *

The Birthday Massacre

The shotgun blast deafened Dean when it ripped past his head, lessening the pressure pushing on the door. Dean screamed in terror, leaping away from the door towards Sammy.

"Get back 'ere boy and help me."

Everything sounded muffled to Dean, even the other shotgun blasts sounded distant. Dean felt like he was going to pass out, his adrenaline pumping through his veins harder than during any of the rare hunts he'd ever been on before. At least then he knew his dad would come save him.

On trembling legs Dean hurried next to the stranger, after making sure Sammy was okay. His brother still hadn't moved at all, not even flinching when Dean grabbed him.

Together, Dean and the stranger pushed piles of junk in front of the door. Hopefully enough to keep the corpses outside.

"C'mon kid, let's get upstairs. Not sure if this'll hold 'em for long."

The stranger pushed past the two stunned boys, not even bothering to check and see if they were okay. Dean forced his wooden legs to work, grabbing Sam's hand as he went by, he hoped that his brother would be okay and come back around soon.

Following the stranger upstairs, Dean and Sam collapsed on the floor behind a couch letting their exhaustion overtake them. Dean making sure to place himself in front of his little brother, anything that went for Sammy would have to go through him first.

Dean didn't know what time it was, and he couldn't remember why it was that he awoke. He tried to search out his surroundings without opening his eyes. Sammy was still behind him, judging by his breathing, still asleep. He couldn't hear any sounds that seemed out of place either.

Struggling to open his eyes Dean became fully aware of his surroundings in an instant. The stranger that Dean had so willingly followed, had so willingly let his brother follow up here, was staring at them from across the room. This feeling of being watched was what awoke Dean.

"I see that yer awake, boy." The man drawled through the gloaming. "I also c'n see that yer bit. There on your foot."

Unwillingly, Dean's eyes glanced down at his shoe, the toe of his sneaker had small teeth punctures in the top. "They aren't deep, sir, the zombie didn't even get me." Dean called the corpses outside by the only word he knew to call them. He watched a movie once while John was away where a similar thing happened; they had called the dead bodies that.

The movie didn't have a happy ending.

"Don't lie ta me boy, you've been bit and now you're gonna turn inta one a them!" The man screamed from across the room, still not moving from his spot.

Dean felt Sammy flinch behind him, the raised voices waking his brother up. "Dean, wha's wrong?" There was an edge of fear to Sammy's voice, letting Dean know that at least his brother had come out of his doll like state.

"It's okay Sammy, we'll be fine." Dean whispered to his brother, never taking his eyes off the stranger. He had something in his hands, something that he wasn't willing to show the boys. Dean suspected he knew what it was and the thought frightened him more than the zombies downstairs.

They sat like this for a while, the light in the room moving from a slight gloaming to full on darkness.

The boys managed to out wait the stranger.

Whipping the gun out, Dean shoved Sammy behind the couch, throwing himself to the other side and rolling across the floor. He hoped that the shadows around the room would be sufficient to hide him. Sammy screamed when the gun went off, once again deafening Dean. He felt the bullet snap down his leg, creating a burning that went from his knee to his foot.

Dean couldn't remember what he had done with the gun from the restaurant, but he wished he had it now.

Scrambling through the dark, the gun went off at least three more times before running dry, which explained where his gun went. Dean made sure that he led the bullets away from the couch and where he hoped Sammy still was.

In the silence that followed all the shooting Dean could hear Sam's sobs from behind the couch, that and the zombies moaning and pounding on the doors outside. A loud crash from downstairs told Dean that they had made it into the building.

For now, Dean decided to ignore the bastard shooting at him and focus on getting Sammy out of the building. Grabbing Sammy's hand from behind the couch the brothers ran out of the room. They heard the first of the zombies climbing up the basement stairs and could hear the stranger chasing after them from upstairs.

Trapped Dean tried to decide which way would get Sammy away the safest. There were more zombies at the front door and windows, pounding to get inside.

"Now ya let the God Damned corpses in! I shoulda let you die down there," the voice was accompanied by another shot from the handgun, apparently the stranger had reloaded.

Dean watched as the stranger came the rest of the way down the stairs, holding the gun out in front of himself in the dark, Dean came to the decision of what he was going to do. It was either this guy, or his baby brother.

The man hadn't seen either of the frightened children yet, he was so focused on finding them that he paid no attention to the zombies coming up the back stairs. Dean burst from the dark, hitting the man in his side and shoving him towards the dead and waiting jaws.

Sam gave a slight squeal of terror as Dean returned to him from the darkness, clutching at Dean's hand again as soon as his older brother was within reach. "Please Dean, let's just go find Dad, let's just go Dean."

Turning back down the hall, Dean began to trot, his adrenaline pumping so hard that he couldn't even feel his leg burn anymore. "I'm tryin' Sammy, please just try to be quiet and we'll find Dad."

Dean tried to block out the image of the zombies chewing into the strange man, and tried not to think about who they would go after when they were done with the appetizer. It was a good thing the man hadn't screamed at all, the zombies managed to get that first and it was something Dean could never forget. He could see the jets of blood turn black in his minds eye.

Finally, Dean managed to find a window in one of the rooms that was not swarming with zombies. Quickly and as quietly as they could the brothers pulled at the light boards that were placed over the opening. They didn't need a hole very big, but all the time they wasted here was more time that the zombies had to finish their meal and seek out a new one.

It was another blocked journey back to the motel, something that neither brother could remember doing. Dean's leg was bleeding profusely from the gun graze.

Dirty and exhausted the boys stumbled to the only safety they knew. The Impala sat in a seemingly untouched area of town, John already had it packed. He was surprised to see the two figures stumble down the street holding hands. Even though he hoped they were his boys he still almost shot them when they came to the motel.


End file.
